His Worth
by SereneCalamity
Summary: Bucky had mentioned it before, saying that he didn't think he was worth it. Steve hated it. Stucky.


_Seriously though, don't we all just want Bucky to be all happy and smiley and looked after by Steve? This is inspired by the comment Bucky made when he and Steve were in the jet together, on their way to the Siberian facility._

 _Disclaimer: I do not own the characters._

It had been almost a year since they had gotten back from Wakanda, which meant it was almost two years since everything had fallen apart between Steve Rogers and Tony Stark, and a rift was caused between the Avengers. T'Challa Udaku had told them that they were both more than welcome to stay in Wakanda, they had been granted asylum and they would be kept safe. But both of the super soldiers wanted to go back to America, and so Steve had organized things with Natasha Romanova to get them back into the country undetected. James 'Bucky' Barnes had been cleared of the murder of King T'Chaka, however they were still fugitives.

Steve was still coming to terms with being on the wrong side of the law, although Bucky had taken it in his stride. The first couple of months they settled in Brooklyn, and Steve went tense every time someone looked at him twice. He practically stuttered through every sentence when speaking with the woman at the grocery store, and it was painful to watch. Bucky was better at keeping his head down, talking in low tones that invited no further conversation but not coming off as nervous or unsettled, and he helped Steve to adjust.

They didn't stay in Brooklyn long.

Natasha and Sam Wilson helped to set them up at a small farm house that backed onto a vineyard. The owners of the vineyard owed Natasha a favor **—** like a lot of people seemed to **—** and so he gave them jobs and didn't ask many questions. They spent their days out under the sun, picking grapes at the far end of the vineyard where the other workers didn't venture, probably told not to by the owner. They made enough money to stay afloat **—** far more than they ever would have gotten back when they were kids in Brooklyn, and it was enough for them, to be comfortable.

T'Challa had been incredible with Bucky, getting all the best doctors and scientists to look at him, but it hadn't been intrusive, they hadn't pushed him any harder than he had been ready to. Bucky had been frozen in the cryo chamber for nearly four months before they had defrosted him, satisfied they had found a way to completely rid him of the programming. Those four months had been horrible for Steve, he had spent it in one of the rooms in the same building as Bucky, never too far, and his days were spent running through the forest, exhausting himself, training with the Dora Milaje, who were some of the scariest and most fierce women he had ever encountered.

Bucky's face when he came out of the cryo chamber had been enough to make Steve want to break down and cry. It had been a few minutes from when the glass had slid down before those eyes had fluttered open, and then Bucky had instantly been searching, searching through the sea of faces until he had found Steve's. Then this small, beautiful smile had crossed the mans face and his shoulders had relaxed, as though as soon as he saw Steve, he knew that everything was going to be okay.

It had been a long road back, and there were still days when Bucky got a haunted expression on his face and neither of them were able to leave the house. That was okay, because then they would both work twice as hard the next day to make up for what they missed.

The programming was gone.

The memories were back.

The problem with the memories being back were that _all_ the memories were back.

Bucky knew all of his kills, he never forgot a face, but now the feelings were rising up and he was remembering all the little details, the things that made them all human, and some nights their last expressions would all flash in front of his face, one after another, and he would wake up in a panicked sweat. Steve would already be awake, one hand on Bucky's bare chest and his blue eyes clouded with concern.

Sometimes Bucky needed to be alone for a while, he would run up and down the vineyard, running until his legs were straining, sweat was pouring down his face and feeling so tired he was ready to pass out. Other times, he just needed Steve to hold him close, press kisses against his face and head, telling him that he loved him and that he was never going to leave him.

It had been a long time since an episode, almost a month, and Clint Barton, Natasha and Sam were visiting. Bucky was doing better around people. Clint and he had a similar, sarcastic sense of humor, Bucky clearly had a healthy admiration for Natasha and Sam...Steve wasn't too sure what was going on between Sam and Bucky had, there seemed to be a competitive edge to their friendship, but they respected each other. The three of them stayed for two days, Natasha and Sam in the spare bedroom next to Steve and Bucky and Clint on the couch. Halfway through the night, the super-soldiers were woken up to sound of Natasha and Sam next door, and their eyes widened, muffling their laughs into their pillows.

The next day wasn't so good though.

Bucky closed in on himself, especially when they were all saying goodbye. Steve asked after Wanda Maximoff, who had gotten a job in a little town as a waitress and apparently had a boyfriend. When they were leaving, Natasha **—** who was the queen of hiding how she really felt **—** actually looked sad when she hugged Steve and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Sam clenched his jaw and his lips twitched as he said goodbye, and Clint jerked his head in a tight nod, biting out a quick, 'See ya, Captain'.

Bucky disappeared into their shared bedroom and didn't come out again until after dinner.

Steve didn't take it personally, although his heart still ached in his chest, because any pain that Bucky felt, Steve felt in his own body. He made dinner, ate his half and put Bucky's half on a plate, wrapped it up and put it into the fridge for when the brunette came out of the bedroom. It had been several hours since Bucky had disappeared, and Steve considered going in to see if he was okay, but he decided against it. He had learnt over the past few years that Bucky needs to be the one to decide when he wants to talk, so Steve grabbed his sketching pad and a couple of pencils and went onto the back balcony. The sun was setting in the distance, casting all sorts of long shadows over the vineyard, and he set about stroking his pencil over the paper.

It was another hour later before Bucky came outside. Steve was sitting on the swinging chair, and there was space next to him for Bucky to sit down, but the dark haired man opted to rest against the railing opposite Steve. The blonde glanced up at Bucky, his fingers tightening around the pencil given how anxious he was to ask Bucky if he was okay, but not wanting to push him. It was another few minutes before Bucky spoke.

"I hate that I'm the reason you can't be with your friends," he began, his voice low and rough. Steve looked at him properly, and could see that Bucky's eyes were scratchy and red. "I know that you're all close."

"We are," Steve agreed as he put his pad and pencil down, leaning forward in the porch swing. "But you're not the reason."

"Yes, I am," Bucky retorted.

"No, you're not," Steve stated. "When the Accords were proposed, we disagreed with them and there was bound to be some catalyst at one point or another. Helmut Zemo and his plot just so happened to push that time line forward."

"Yeah, but maybe you would have just ended up not working for the government. You probably would have had some cushy retirement amount and they might have got you to be an instructor or something," Bucky argued. " _Not_ on the run with an assassin who has been methodically killing people for the last seventy years. _Not_ hiding from the authorities and needing to settle as work as a-a _farmer_ , and not able to see your friends. You deserve so much better than this, Steve! You deserve to be with your friends, to live a free life after everything that you've been through!" Steve felt anger rising in his chest at the way Bucky was putting himself down.

"Bucky," he began, his voice firm as he stood up.

"No, Steve **—** listen! I'm sure that if you went to Ross, or spoke with Stark, you could work something out! Everyone _wants_ Captain America back, they want Captain America in the good books! They aren't going to turn you away if you go back and tell them you're sorry!" Bucky cried, his hands gripping the railing of their balcony, the new metal arm that T'Challa's people had given him. "I'm not worth all of this running and hiding—"

"Bucky!" Steve's voice was a lot louder than he had planned on it being, and Bucky's grey eyes widened in surprise. That alone was a testament to how far they had come, because Steve remembered in Bucky's first few months out of the cryo-freeze when every loud noise would make him nervous. But as far as Bucky had come with the scientists and his therapists, one of the things that he never seemed to be able to regain was the feeling of self worth.

Steve could empathize.

He wouldn't even begin to try and understand how Bucky felt, because despite all of the horrors that his friend and lover had told him about, he knew that there were countless more that Bucky still hid.

But Steve could still empathize.

And he could try and make Bucky see where Steve was coming from, and what Steve saw whenever he looked at Bucky.

A brave, loyal and incredible man.

Someone who had looked after him—who had given his _life_ for him—and who had managed to break through years and years of brainwashing to save Steve's life for a second time when they were hanging from the helicarriers.

 _The love of his life and his best friend._

"Everything I did, I would do it again," Steve's voice was a little shaky as he stepped in close to Bucky, backing him firmly up against the railing of the deck and blocking him in when the blonde curled his hands into fists at his side and rested them on the railing on either side of Bucky. "As soon as I found out you were alive, I knew I would do anything to get back to you—even if you couldn't remember me or who you were. And when I saw that look up in the helicarrier—when you remembered who I was—that was the happiest moment of my life, Buck."

"Steve..." Bucky's voice was no louder than a whimper.

"With everything that happened though...You need to remember, that was a choice we made, when it came to the Accords, and it wasn't your _fault_. Because it was the _right_ choice. It was the _right_ thing to do. And whether you were part of that choice or not, I would have made the same one, every time," Steve repeated his earlier sentiment. "You know what though?" He fell quiet, waiting for Bucky to reply.

"Mm?" He mumbled after a moment when he seemed to realize that Steve wasn't going to say anything until he prompted him.

"Even if it was the wrong choice, I would make it all over again if it meant being here with you," Steve's hands shifted where they had been resting on the railing, and they touched Bucky's arm, one flesh, one metal, both perfect. "Because, Buck...You're worth _everything_ to me." Bucky swallowed hard, and he leaned forward so that their noses bumped together. Steve shifted his head, the tip of his nose skimming along Bucky's before brushing over one of his cheekbones, his lips whispering close to his mouth. "Til the end of the line, Buck. Remember?" His words puffed out warm breath against Bucky's face and made the brunette shiver.

"Til the end of the line," Bucky repeated back before closing the tiny distance between their mouths and pressing a kiss to Steve's mouth. The noise Steve made at the back of his throat made Bucky shiver and sink his fingers into Steve's hair. They were just beginning to get into it, Steve pressing up hard against Bucky's lean body and Bucky rolling his hips forward to meet Steve's, when Bucky's stomach let out a loud rumble. The pair of super-soldiers broke apart with a laugh, Bucky leaning his forehead against Steve's shoulder.

"I put dinner aside for you," Steve grinned. "We can head in and heat it up."

"Sounds good," Bucky lifted his head, and there was his beautiful smile, lips tipped upwards and eyes crinkled in the corners, his loose hair framing his face. The blonde would go to the ends of the earth to see that smile on Bucky's face. Steve couldn't help himself, he pushed Bucky's hair back behind his ears and gave him another quick kiss, before tangling their fingers together and tugging him back into their home.

 _So? Let me know what you think._


End file.
